Savage Beast
by Sweet Lu
Summary: Deeks finds himself in imminent danger after his cover is blown and finds comfort from an unexpected source. Takes place before he joins NCIS. Originally written for the blog wikiDeeks, a site for all things Deeks.


**Savage Beast**

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_February 2009_

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Deeks coughed up more blood as he tried to get out of the rain by tucking himself a little further under what was left of the orange Pontiac Aztek he was handcuffed to. The rain hadn't let up since they'd brought him to the wrecking yard, so he was soaking wet, and that seemed fitting for the shitty day it was turning out to be. If he had been authorized to pay his informant a few more bucks, his cover might still be intact, but instead the man had gone psycho over the measly fifty bucks and ratted him out to the meth dealer he was trying to bring down, leading to a painful beating and his current situation. He eyed the digital clock on the bomb one more time, hoping that the incompetent bastard who had made it might have truly been incompetent this time and that just maybe the battery had died or something, anything really, that would keep him from being blown to bits in thirty-seven minutes.

He always thought he would die alone, but to have to die handcuffed to one of the ugliest cars he had ever seen was just adding insult to injury. Who in their right mind would paint an already ugly car such a disgusting shade of orange? It made him want to throw up, but he'd already emptied the contents of his stomach after they beat the shit out of him, so that wasn't an option. He pulled halfheartedly on the handcuffs again, but as the sky darkened, so did his one hope that Lt. Bates would send someone to look for him after he'd missed his check-in call.

He rested his head on his arms and pulled his knees up, unable to stop a moan from escaping as his bruised ribs reacted to the sudden movement. He had been lying in the mud and gravel almost two hours, the meth dealer telling him he wanted to give him time to make his peace with God, causing him to laugh and earning him a parting kick for his insolence. The dealer was one violent dude, a vicious murderer, and the thought that he actually believed in God was ludicrous, so he couldn't help but make a joke, which was not appreciated, but then again his jokes rarely were.

He raised his head slowly, knowing if he moved any quicker the dizziness would return, but he had heard the sound of crunching gravel, so he searched the surrounding wrecks for the source. A soft, low whine emanated from inside the upside down Mini Cooper across from him and he held his breath, remembering the owner of the wrecking yard telling him about his guard dog. Great. Just what he needed, to be bitten by a junkyard dog on top of everything else. Now he was getting pissed and a little dejected. Nothing was going right today, but at least the rain had stopped.

The scrawny gray dog crawled out of the totaled Mini Cooper, pulling himself towards him, his ears flat against his head as he started to growl. He smelled bad and was as wet as he was, and not looking terribly friendly as he continued to inch closer.

"Hey, boy. How you doing?"

Really? Why was he suddenly sounding like Joey Tribbiani from Friends? The dog however, stopped and pricked up his ears and began to pant, making him look like he was laughing and that made him smile at the craziness of this day.

"You like jokes?"

The dog whined and began crawling again, making him wonder if the dog was injured. He looked him over and noticed that he was bleeding from a cut on his side and also favoring his left hind leg.

"Looks like you got the shit beat out of you, too," he said, trying to keep his voice calm and soothing.

The dog stopped again and stared at him. He looked like an old dog, but he didn't act like he was going to bite him, which meant something might finally be going right today. Maybe this dog would bring him some good luck. He looked like the kind of good luck charm he'd get, a mangy, wet dog who couldn't walk and was probably not very good at his job.

A slice of pain shot through his abdomen, forcing out a sudden groan and he held his breath, closing his eyes tightly until it eased. He smelled the wet hair of the dog and opened his eyes as a warm tongue slowly began licking his face. The dog's breath was horrible, but his tongue was soft and his gentle gesture oddly comforting. He had always wanted a dog as a kid, but the stray he had brought home was discovered and run off by his dad, and he got a quick, hard lesson about pets that his dad emphasized with his belt. Now that he was about to die, he finally got his wish and he began to laugh, making the dog increase the speed of his licking which he couldn't stop because he was handcuffed to an ugly orange car.

"Hey boy," he managed to say. "You gotta go. You don't want to get blown up with me."

He glanced at the bomb as the dog curled himself up close to his chest watching him. He had fourteen minutes to live and he became agitated at the thought of the dog dying with him.

"Get out of here, you ugly mutt," he shouted. "Go! Get!"

The dog whined and looked at him curiously, but didn't move and he realized that the dog had probably been mistreated his whole life, so a few shouted words barely got a rise out of him. The dog gave him a few more quick licks and then laid his head down on his chest and let out a long sigh.

"You're not very bright are you?"

The dog suddenly growled deeply and the hair at the scuff of his neck rose stiffly and he struggled to his feet, his growl now menacing as he stood next to him.

"Deeks?"

He jerked at the sound of his name being shouted out from several directions as the dog beside him continued to growl.

"Here," he yelled. "I'm here."

When he saw Bates, he slumped back to the ground, his breathing rapid as he waited for them to reach him. The dog took a step toward the officers and bared his teeth and he saw one of the cops take aim at him.

"Don't shoot him," he shouted. "He's a good dog. Aren't you boy? You're just protecting me, right? It's okay, boy, they're on our side."

"Deeks, is that a bomb?" Bates asked as the standoff continued.

"Yeah," he answered.

"How long till it goes off?"

"Eight minutes."

"So will it be you or the dog?" he asked.

"He won't bite you," he answered.

"How do you know that?" one of the other officers asked.

"I just do," he said rather testily. "Now get me out of these cuffs."

The two cops took a step back, leaving Bates standing alone shaking his head. As Bates approached, Deeks began talking calmly to the dog. He growled low in his throat, but backed up against Deeks and turned to look at him, shivering and then whimpering as Bates kneeled down and began to unlock the cuffs.

"It's okay boy," Deeks whispered and the dog licked him quickly and then limped away, disappearing down the row of wrecked cars.

"You ready to get out of here?" Bates asked as he helped him to his feet. "That bomb looks pretty pathetic, but it can still kill you and me both."

"Can't you disarm it?" he asked as he reached out to steady himself on the side of the car.

"Do I look like Jeremy Renner to you?" Bates asked as he pulled Deeks away. "Now move."

They had just reached the end of the row when the bomb blew, sending the orange Pontiac up in the air in a burst of yellow flames, effectively ending its sad life.

"That thing blew early," Bates noted.

"How'd you find me?" Deeks asked as he leaned against one of the squad cars, wiping blood off his face.

"You missed your check-in, so I had your informant picked up," he said. "Didn't take many threats to get him to talk."

"I told you fifty bucks wasn't enough," Deeks said a little harshly, earning him a sharp look from Bates.

"Let's go," Bates snapped. "I'll drive you to the hospital."

"Not until I find my dog," Deeks said as he pushed himself away from the squad car and started back down the row of wrecked cars.

"Are you crazy?" Bates sputtered.

"What can I say? He kissed me and I fell in love," he said with a wide grin before he started looking inside the cars.

"You're weird, Deeks," one of the cops laughed.

"You're walking home," Bates yelled after him. "No way I'm letting that smelly dog in my car."

The dog growled just behind Bates, causing him to jump and cuss loudly as he stumbled into one of his men.

"Found your dog, Deeks," an officer called out.

Deeks hurried back as the dog slunk into the shadows behind the patrol car.

"You guys have some food I could use?" Deeks asked, surprised when the men began rummaging through their glove box and handing over assorted goodies.

He smiled a crooked grin at Bates as he walked past, holding a day old Twinkie in his hand. He stood at the back of the patrol car and held it out to the cowering dog, who whined as he watched Deeks warily, his pink tongue licking out as he eyed the Twinkie.

"Come on boy," Deeks said softly as he knelt down in front of the dog. "I bet you've got a sweet tooth, you just don't know it."

The dog snatched the Twinkie and wolfed it down, licking his lips as he looked for more. Deeks stood up and walked away and the dog followed him around to the side of the patrol car where Deeks opened the door. The dog looked at him and then jumped in the back seat, moving over as Deeks got in beside him. Bates glared at both of them and then got in his car and drove off, leaving the others snickering.

"What are you gonna call that mutt, Deeks?" The cop asked as he and his partner got in the front seat.

"I was thinking of an old fashioned Western name like Monty," he answered as he fed the dog another Twinkie. "What do you think, Monty?"

The dog whined in response and nudged Deeks' hand with his nose, urging him to open a small bag of Cheetos he was holding.

"You're never gonna get rid of that dog if you keep feeding him all that junk food," the cop said.

"Junk food to soothe the savage beast," Deeks laughed. "We'll have to remember that, Monty."

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End file.
